There Can Be Only One
by Inks Inc
Summary: Neal has a lot of connections to the New York underworld. That mean's he hears things, lots of things. Some of these things are true, some of them not so true. Context is a fickle mistress and Neal soon finds himself endowed with knowledge he's not sure he ever wanted. Information can drive a guy crazy, especially the wrong kind. Enter, Agent Burke. WARNING: Spanking. One-shot.


Peter was careful to be soft of hand as he gently pulled Neal off his knee and into a hug. The kid's face was hot against his chest, and his fringe hung limply into his eyes. He said nothing for a moment, merely rubbing Neal's back as he sniffled against his chest. He'd been hard on him, but he'd had to be. He'd righted his clothing to protect his modesty and he'd given him time for the sobbing to peter out before he moved him. But that didn't make the limp form in his arms any harder to take. Feeling the last of the sorrow leave the kid's body, he carefully held him at arm's length and quirked a brow.

"You ok?"

Neal flashed a shadow of his usually disarming smile and nodded.

"Yeah, I'm good. All things considered."

Peter frowned. The pitch was off, the cadence odd. He was keenly tuned into Neal's expressions, in all aspects of his life, and this…was off. He appraised him silently for a moment as the young man looked down at the floor, before tipping his chin up carefully with his thumb. "You know the main reason why I was so mad with you?" he asked quietly. Neal shrugged with a meekly rueful expression that made Peter's heart ache.

"Because I tried to put in for a radius increase in your name?"

Peter smiled a small smile. "No, Neal, that's not why. That's why I punished you and that's why you're not going to sit for a while, but it's not the main reason." Confusion splashed across the kid's face as he resisted the urge to rub his extremely well and freshly spanked backside. "I didn't do anything else," he suddenly blurted out, "Peter, I swear I didn't."

The elder agent placed a comforting and silencing hand on the boy's shoulder.

"I know that son," he reassured quietly, "But the main reason I was so angry, isn't _what_ you did…it's _why_ you did it." He shook his head. "It was just such a pointless thing to do Neal," he sighed, "You knew I'd find out, you knew what would happen. It wasn't even an elaborate plan, it was so…basic. Not your style. For the life of me, I can't figure out why? I asked you before I spanked you if there were any mitigating circumstances that drove you to do it, and you said no. So I'm asking you again, please, tell me why you did it?"

He squeezed Neal's shoulder slightly and locked gazes with him.

"Please."

The usually collected and self assured young man sniffled slightly, his emotions running high and the temperature of his rear end even higher. "I don't know," he muttered, shrugging slightly, "A moment of madness I guess." He looked at Peter desperately. "I know it was wrong, I paid the price, so can we just let it go now? Please?"

Agent Burke instinctively shook his head.

"Neal, do you want another spanking?"

His words surprised him, for he hadn't meant to speak them. But this was an instance of gut taking precedence over brain. And his gut was telling him that he needed to get to the root cause of Neal's uncharacteristic balefulness. The kid was impulsive, but he was staggeringly intelligent and possessed patience where it mattered. A ham-fisted attempt at forging a document he knew would raise brows was not worthy of the Neal Caffrey he knew.

Neal's eyes widened with horror as he shook his head. Peter took a deep breath and steeled himself.

"If you don't tell me the truth, then I can't be assured this won't happen again. If you won't tell me the truth, I am going to spank you until you do." He held up a hand as Neal opened his mouth furiously. "Yes," he admitted quietly, "I know it's not fair and it's outrageous and all the rest of it, but this is too important Neal. This is your life, this is your deal. I am not going to stand here and watch you put it on the line without rhyme or reason. You push the boundaries, you always have and you probably always will. But this? This makes no sense, and I need you to help me see the sense." He cleared his throat, and softened his tone. "Please, Neal?"

Neal paled at the man's words.

He could instantly tell that this was one of those moments where Peter was not to be deterred.

He also knew from experience that the man had no problem making good on his threat.

His reddened rear pleaded with him to be reasonable.

His face reddened as his emotional, nonsensical reasoning slipped to his lips.

"I heard you were shopping for a new informant," he muttered, cheeks flushed. "It was all over the scene, everyone was talking about it. What you had to offer, who'd get the gig. All the rats in the sewers were practically jumping over themselves to join the queue." He shrugged and attempted to cool his face, unsuccessfully so, and studied his feet. "Guess I just thought I'd jump before I was pushed is all. Not really enough room at the inn for two and it's no secret I'm not Hughes' flavour of the month." He shuffled from foot to foot. "Thought I'd save you an uncomfortable position."

Peter felt his mouth drop open as the pieces of puzzle clinked into place.

Neither said a word or moved an inch for a moment.

Breaking that silence and stagnation, Peter reached out and carefully took Neal by the arm. Turning him sideways, he easily leant him forward and tucked him under his arm before the kid knew what was happening. A second later, the room rang with the brisk and sharp sounds of hand meeting backside. Neal's indignant squawking sailed into the air as soon as his brain caught up with his butt, but Peter was undeterred. Holding his protégée firmly, he easily relit the ferocious fire in the kid's behind that had barely begun to fade. Speaking over the sounds of his own broad hand making extreme contact with a very prone backside, Peter enunciated each syllable clearly.

"That informant was not for me," he explained evenly, raising his voice to be heard over Neal's yelping as he plastered his behind a deeper shade of red. "It was for a buddy of mine in DC, the informant chosen would be a go-between for the two cities. It had nothing to do with me, or you for that matter, and Iwas _not_ shopping around."

He moved back down to Neal's sit spots, even though he'd done a mighty fine job initially.

"I have spoken to you before," he continued, holding Neal tighter still as he squirmed vigorously over his makeshift knee, "About jumping to conclusions. At the end of our last conversation," he moved his hand back to the meatier part of the kid's behind, bringing his hand down sharply, "I warned you never to do it again. You agreed to come to me, should you have any concerns about _anything."_ He dropped two particularly searing swats that caused the boy to whimper under his arm. "You did not. You jumped to conclusions, _again."_ He reached further down and applied another flurry of searing swats to Neal's very accessible backside, before releasing his grasp and guiding the kid back to his feet.

Neal's face was a perfect mixture of surprise and horror as he took several steps back.

Peter frowned with the ferocity of a starved lion.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't take those pants down, bare your butt and put you straight back over my knee mister?"

Neal paled as he reached back to feverishly rub his behind.

"I just…I just didn't-"

"You just didn't _what_ Neal?"

The kid flushed such an alarming shade of red that Peter momentarily thought he was having a cardiac episode. Still rubbing his enflamed rear end, the informant shuffled from foot to foot and stared at the floor. Taking a heaving breath in, he squared his shoulders. It took all of Peter's superior hearing to catch the words that were spoken directly to the floor, in a voice that was quieter than a church mouse.

"Just didn't want to have to leave here…."

He swallowed.

"Or you. I wanted to stay…with you."

Peter felt what anger bubbled in his gut instantly siphon away. His heart felt funny as he studied the kid silently, his head bowed, hair flopping. Neither said anything for a moment, Neal feeling horribly vulnerable. Clearing his throat eventually, Peter effectively drew the younger man's eyes to him. Crooking the traditional finger point, he raised a brow.

"Come here," he said quietly, pointing to the spot on the floor directly in front of him.

A burst of misery splashed across Neal's face as he stared silently. Swallowing deeply, he eventually managed to communicate the message to his legs and walked slowly towards Peter, closing the gap between them. Seeing the chair they had both vacated not ten minutes ago, his stomach sank desperately. Knowing it was better to just aid the process than drag it out; he sighed miserably, but reached up a hand to his pants button. His behind was already beyond repair he was sure; there was no need to put it in any further danger by being uncooperative.

He was surprised when Peter gently caught his hand and prevented the movement.

"I said come here," he repeated quietly, pointing to the spot directly in front of him.

Gulping somewhat, Neal slowly obeyed; moving into the direct line of what he presumed was hellacious fire. Peter studied him for a moment, taking in his appearance with a sadness and relief that contrasted and combated each other. Reaching out, he placed a hand on either of Neal's shoulders and looked him square in the eye. "You ever do something like this again, for a non-reason like that, and I will blister your behind every night for a week. I've done it before and I'll go it again. Do you understand me?"

Neal's fervent nodding had him resembling a bobble head.

Satisfied, Peter immediately drew the surprised kid into his chest and wrapped his arms tightly around him. Relaxing only when Neal relaxed into the embrace, he sighed into the tangled mop of hair that smelled of obscenely expensive shampoo.

"You will never, ever have to leave, not if you don't want to. Understand?"

Neal nodded against his chest and Peter rubbed a fond hand through his hair before releasing him. He frowned when he saw the kid stare at him as his transfixed, something obviously having caught his eye.

"What?"

Neal grinned, the same grin that both drove Peter crazy and made him light with happiness.

"You have a grey hair." The hair in question was uncerimonously yanked on, causing Peter to yelp and gently slap Neal's hands away. "You're greying," the younger man repeated, mirth dancing in his red rimmed eyes, "You're _actually_ greying."

Peter smiled an exasperated smile and gently cuffed the kid around the ear.

It always amazed him how easily they could go from stern and pissed off father figure and arguing before eventually repentant charge, to two friends.

Unusual, unconventional friends, but best friends.

"Is it any wonder with you around? I'm lucky I've not had a heart attack."

…

Random one-shot. Completed.

_Inks

…


End file.
